


Satin and Sacrament

by WaterlilyRose



Category: Silence (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 17th Century, Angst, Catholic Guilt, Confessions, Courtly Love, Did I mention angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Love, I've never seen a Silence/Star Wars spin off, Plus I'm never patient enough to write one shots, Priest Kylo Ren, Restoration Court, Secret Relationship, So split into chapters it is., Stuart Era, silence au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterlilyRose/pseuds/WaterlilyRose
Summary: Father Garupe is sent to the Restoration Court to be a confessor to the Catholic Queen and her ladies. He is stricken by guilt at not being able to follow his friend to Japan... and stricken by the sweet young woman who insists on calling him her friend and who has a face sweet enough to be the Madonna.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PoetHrotsvitha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoetHrotsvitha/gifts).



> *Sigh* I need to learn patience to just write a 20000 word one-shot. But *shrugs* I'm not a patient girl.
> 
> I was stunned to find upon searching that there is no SIlence AU Reylo on this site and I was like, "Well, we'll have to fix that." So I am.
> 
> Silence is based in the 17th Century but doesn't tell me an exact year. So for the purposes of plot, I set it in the Restoration Era of 1660 onwards. I've always wanted to write a Priest Kylo Au too so two birds so to speak. 
> 
> I am working on 'The Wardship' I swear to God. This just caught my attention and I am a sucker for historical Reylo. It's my Thing (TM)

Father Garupe is preparing for another journey altogether when Father Valignano came to his room. He was holding a letter which was more fancy and well-preserved than the scrap of manuscript that had travelled many years from Japan. Garupe expects many protestations against this trip with Rodrigues to Japan as Valignano had clearly been against their determination for find Father Ferreira.

He does not expect _this_.

“I have received this note… from the English Royal Court. You have no doubt kept up to date with the Restoration of the King?”

“Thanks be to God.” Father Garupe managed. As a Jesuit, he had been appalled at the prosecution that Catholics faced under Oliver Cromwell and his puritans. At least now with this new King back on the throne, it would be a more tolerant time to be a Catholic.

“The King cannot be openly supportive of the Catholic faction himself as his reign depends on him showing a devotion to the Protestant faith. But he does have a Queen who openly supports the Catholic faith and many cousins who also worship thus. The Queen has requested a Jesuit priest be sent to the court to hear the confessions and perform Mass. She has requested you – by name.”

The world began to tip on its axis for Garupe. Go? To the English Court? By request of the Queen? But… “I am set to travel with Rodrigues. We are to find Father Ferreira and-”

“It is the wish of the Queen that you attend to her needs. We cannot ignore a royal command. No matter what you plans may be.”

It was a sin to argue against his superior yet he was weak enough to be unable to guard his tongue. “There are hundreds of men better equipped than myself. Thousands!”

“Do not fall under the sin of pride, Garupe. I believe that you will take this task seriously and help guide this young lady towards her salvation. It is the Queen’s wish and she appears to be implacable in this. That is my final word.”

The royal command was absolute but Garupe sees this for what it also is – Valignano has found the perfect reason to stop his mission. If he cannot save two of his priests then he can at least save one. He has done this on purpose and Garupe is powerless to stop him. He must go where Rodrigues cannot follow.

“Yes, Father.”

* * *

The boats destined to take Rodrigues and Garupe away from one another are side by side. One is destined for Japan; the other for England. By rights they should both be bordering the boat for Japan. It stings Garupe even now. There is a marked distinction between their ships – Garupe’s is much more comfortable looking. It is here to transport not only him but fruits, furs and other splendour that Portugal has to offer the English Court. Rodrigues has merely a fish boat.

Rodrigues shows no malice or judgement for it – that only succeeds in Garupe feeling worse.

“This is goodbye, my friend.” Rodrigues proclaims. “As I doubt our paths will cross again.”

Garupe makes the sign of the cross and then hugs Rodrigues close to him. He feels his companion tremble and he knows that this really is the last time they will see one another. He doesn’t want to do this: he doesn’t want to go to a court famed for its decadence in a way that rivals the French court and hear the meagre confessions of a woman no doubt succumbed to vice. How can he give absolution when he feels the need to be cleansed himself?

He is called onto the boat and, moving shakily up the gangplank, Garupe follows his fate. He stands at the railing of his ship and watches Rodrigues into his boat is merely a dot on the horizon.

* * *

It is a miserable journey and Garupe is happy about it. For weeks they travel over perilous never-ending seas and Garupe wishes to spend the time in his cabin to pray. Yet the sea air makes him feel closer to God and it transpires that he is good at tying knots on deck. He loses even more weight and begins to feel faint if he spends too long on his feet. He has never been strong due the teachings of the Church and his diet of mere bread and stew. He is given the same portions as the sailors but it still makes him grow gaunter and one of the sailors comments that his face is now so gaunt that his cheekbones look like they hurt.

Garupe does not feel the desire to explain that everything hurts. Especially his heart.

He takes the time crafting knots on the bow of the ship to wonder why on Earth the Queen Consort of England would ask for him by name? He tried to remember all he knew of the current Queen. He knew she was of the Catholic faith (which made her suspicious in the eyes of the people) and she had spent some time in the Portuguese court. Which led him to believe… but no. That was impossible.

Many did not know that Garupe was nobly born. He was the son of a noblewoman and a lady who had spent much time at the Portuguese court. But the woman had made an unwise marriage to a commoner and their offspring, himself, had been given to the church as an act of penance before they were separated. He had no memory of either of his parents and had lived with the brothers of the Jesuit faith his whole life. Garupe believed he would have turned to God even without his parents’ folly. But maybe this Queen knew of his mother and of his fate.

Or maybe Valignano had transpired to get Garupe to leave Rodrigues by any means necessary?

Yet when he goes onto deck when the sailors cry ‘Land-ho!” and looks upon the cliffs of Dover for the first time, he finds himself more sick at heart than ever before. England was before him and his duty grew ever closer. Besides he was a Catholic in a formally Puritan land – how would he be received?

Such musings made Rodrigues’ mission look worse and made guilt flood him. His friend was due years of hardship – what right had he to complain?

* * *

It took many days to arrive by carriage to the English Court. He was dressed in his priest robes and had taken the trouble to wash and trim his beard the night before. Still as the footman opened his carriage, his lack of fancifulness was apparent. The servant well outranked him in terms of dress.

The palace of Whitehall was bigger than even his former Catholic Haven. There were water-features and sculptures in all the parks and everything seemed to be glittering.

He wished he was back on his ship. A life tying knots and eating little seemed a much more pure way of living than this!

Garupe was led to his new chambers. He passed such riches and paintings that made his feel he was in the Vatican. Yet when he was led down other corridors where he anticipated was the haven of the palace he found himself confronted by some corridors and apartments that looked… less majestic. The wood looked slightly rotten on the doors and there were paintings so old that they looked in danger of falling from their frames. Garupe mused how a palace that looked so glittering and glamorous could be built on a substance that was decaying from the inside.

It was a little like the monarchy itself.

His new room was more lavish than anything he had ever experienced. There was a canopy over his bed, a stuffed mattress and red velvet sheets. Such decadence! Yet there was prie-dieu and a Bible beside his bed. He asked the servant to take all that was not necessary from the room and give it to the poor house. The young man, Mitaka was what his name was, seemed perpetually nervous but one look at Garupe had him scurrying away to follow his orders. The servant seemed almost afraid of Garupe – he would have to pray forgiveness for the fact that this made Garupe feel almost gleeful.

He said his first true prayer in months and felt God’s love wash through him. He prayed for strength, for Rodrigues and for fortification for whatever he soon faced.

* * *

King Dameron’s court was known for its ostentatious pomp but Garupe was in new rush to see it. So the news that he would meet the Queen quietly in her private chambers with only her ladies-in-waiting as witnesses, he was most grateful. He clutched his rosary beads in his palm for strength after fortifying himself with a long slumber, some good meat and the use of a mirror for the first time in weeks. The image he saw looked dignified and that was all he could hope to achieve. Garupe had been told his whole life that vanity was a sin and just as well for Garupe saw little in himself to be vain about. His ears stuck out too far, his skin was too pale and he was much too thin. Vanity was for those who possessed looks to be prideful of.

The Queen was sat in the centre of lavish rooms surrounded by many women with heavy curls and dresses that showed far too much heaving bosoms. She was an older woman of middle age with a tall, thin frame and dress that was a violent pink colour. Her wig was coloured an almost lilac colour yet it oddly suited her. She looked up and gave Garupe a smile.

“Ah, Father Garupe!” The Queen stood and offered her hand for Garupe to kiss. “We have been waiting for many weeks.” She stepped closer and examined Garupe closely. “Yes… yes. I can see it.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Amilyn please. Though the court call me Queen Holdo. Lord knows why. No, I can see the resemblance. You have your mother’s hair but your father’s features. Strong jaw. Full lips. And oh! Those are her eyes!”

Garupe suddenly felt light-headed. So he had been right. “You… you knew my parents?”

The Queen nodded her head. “Lady Leia was my friend at the Portuguese court. She married a good man but very poor. You were the result of such love. Beautiful baby boy you were. I cuddled you and cooed over you. I made such a fuss when you were… Well, I had to have you back someday.”

Garupe felt shy for the first time. They sounded like handsome people – he must have been a disappointment. Yet Queen Holdo looked at him as though he was the jewel in her crown.

“I have need of a good priest. I am of the Catholic faith and need a man of genuine conviction. The King has a cousin too who also follows the Catholic way and wished a man from outside the court to be our confessor.”

“The Lady is at court?” Garupe asked.

“Oh yes.” Queen Holdo nodded. “She is one of my ladies and-” The door opened from a side wall and there was a rustle of fabric. “Ah, here she is now.”

Garupe turned around and saw a young woman of barely twenty years. She wore the silken gowns that were so in fashion but in more sombre colours of dark blue and with a more demure neckline. She wore a gold crucifix around her neck and her curls were neatly done up behind her neck. She had rosy cheeks that was free of rouge and freckles which were out of fashion yet dotted her nose defiantly. She had hazel eyes and a little nose. And her smile at the sight of him was unrestrained and earnest.

“Father Garupe, this is Lady Rey of my household and a cousin of my husband. She developed the Catholic religion in exile at the French court. Rey, this is Father Garupe from Portugal.”

The girl curtsied to him and he bowed his head in acknowledgement. He had never been curtsied to in his life. Rey rose up and took his hand.

“I’m so pleased to finally have you here! We have had need of a Jesuit for so long.”

“It is my pleasure, Milady.” Garupe nodded, trying to ignore the fact that he had been so violently against this position from the very beginning.

“You will be made welcome here.” Rey promised. “Very much so.”

* * *

Life at the English Court was decadent and merry – Garupe looked upon it from a distance and with disdain. He never ate in the Great Hall or attended the balls. He retired to bed early at night and rose before the sun was up. He took Mass for the Queen, Rey and a few other devout ladies and heard their confessions.

He spent much time in his rooms and walking the gardens. It was in these gardens that he met the King for the first time.

Garupe was taking his usual walk when he came across a gaggle of high-born nobles sitting around a fountain. In the centre was a man of medium height, dressed in a wig that the men of the court seemed to be fond of with olive skin and eyes that promised kindness but also conviction. No doubt King Dameron would have needed that conviction to regain his throne.

Garupe had not been deaf to the rumours and blatant confessions of the Queen to gage the relationship between the royal couple. King Dameron and Queen Holdo had married for political reasons and it was not a love match. They often argued so bitterly that the King would storm away and the Queen would dab at her eyes with her kerchief (though no tears were ever present and she was reported to be smiling at the same time). The King consoled himself in many mistresses with his favourite seeming to be Lady Kaydal Connix, a blonde pretty girl with her hair in bunned ringlets, and Queen Holdo consoled herself with going to the royal treasury and staring at the jewels that she owned as a result of her marriage.

And yet, and Garupe wished that he did not know this, Queen Holdo seemed to still, from time to time, desire her husband. She seemed to view their arguments as… well, foreplay for their bedroom exertions. It was in holy matrimony and she was still a mortal woman – why shouldn’t she jump her husband if it got him to shut up?

Garupe gave her a penance of ten Hail Mary's and went for a lie-down.

King Dameron had caught sight of him and beckoned Garupe forward. Garupe bowed in deference but kept his face stern. He was a religious man and not a courtier.

“So,” Dameron said in a ringing voice, “you are the new priest?”

“I am, Your Majesty.”

“A Catholic. And Portuguese.” Garupe nodded. His accent was subtle but ever present. And he knew his English was excellent as was his Latin. “I trust you like the court?”

“It is very grand, Your Majesty.” Garupe was careful not to say his opinion. “Your Grace’s wife Queen Holdo is a most gracious mistress.”

“Yes, she does know how to be gracious when she wants.” King Dameron said in a quieter and rather bitter tone. Connix giggled at this – she was clearly no fan of her lover’s wife.

Dameron looked Garupe up and down and Garupe couldn’t help but notice that he was at least a foot taller than the King. It made him feel rather pleased. He also could not help but notice that Rey was not with her cousin or his followers.

“Well,” King Dameron declared, “you will have to keep the old religion thriving. Even if it must be done behind closed doors.”

“That I will, Sire,” Garupe bowed, “that I will.”

* * *

Life had remained fairly uneventful for Garupe for the first few weeks at court before a disturbance happened in his life.

He had turned in early as usual and was in the midst of a deep sleep when he was awaken by Mitaka holding a candle.

“Forgive me Father but you are required.”

“The Queen?” Garupe murmured groggily.

“No, Father. Lady Rey. She has had a nightmare and is agitated. She seemed calm when it was suggested you might attend her.”

Lady Rey? Garupe got up and dressed in his priest robes before following Mitaka and his candle down the corridors to Rey’s stately room.

There was a marked difference in Rey’s apartments and in Garupe’s. For one, Garupe had only a single room with a bed and he was more than happy with that. Rey’s rooms were more or less a suite of apartments with fine furniture and ornaments. As a cousin to the King, she demanded an opulence much greater than a mere Jesuit priest. Yet Garupe was taken aback by the sight of the slight girl wrapped in a dressing gown huddled on a sofa. She looked so different from the smiling, buoyant girl that she normally was. She looked younger and tear-stained. She sat up as Garupe entered her apartments and was left alone by Mitaka.

“I was told you suffered a nightmare?”

Rey sniffed and nodded. “Forgive me for waking you. I… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“Do not apologise, my child.” Garupe said in what he hoped was a gentle voice.

“‘My child’. You always say that. You can call me Rey.”

“It would not be proper.”

“Maybe I am fed up with ‘proper’.”

This was dangerous ground so Garupe steered it towards her nightmare. “Have you suffered bad dreams before?”

“Yes.” Rey said in a little voice. “They are always the same. I am alone in a desert. Abandoned and held back as my parents leave me. I see years and years ahead of me of hunger and loneliness. So alone...” She put her hand to her forehead. “What do you think it means? Is it a premonition?”

“Were you alone as a child?” Garupe asked.

Rey nodded. “My parents seemed to have disappeared into the night. I was left as an impoverished relative of the English royal family and then we had to go into exile during Cromwell’s time. I was left alone and sometimes we didn’t have much food. They resented us and sometimes… the hunger...” Rey wiped her eyes.

“Those days have past. You are merry now.”

“But for how long? What if it is taken away again?”

Garupe put a hand on her shoulder. He normally kept a good distance from people but he felt she had need of comfort. “The nightmares are your fears. You are worrying so much that they are stealing into your sleep. It is no premonition – God hears your fears and will help you.”

“I can only hope.” Rey looked at Garupe then with searching eyes. “I only have the Queen. I left my friends in Paris. Finn and Rose… they are married now. They write to me very often and plan a trip to England one day but not yet. All the other women of the court are too worldly and do not share my convictions. I have no friends here. But… You are my friend, are you not?”

Garupe blinked in bemusement. A priest was one thing but… friendship?

“I try to be kind to all of God’s flock-”

“No.” Rey said this so firmly he broke off. “I mean a friend. Who I can talk to? Can take comfort in? I’m so alone.”

“You’re not alone.” The words came from his mouth unbidden. Rey looked at him and he found himself pinned by her gaze.

“Neither are you” was all she said in reply.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all the people who like my story. I'm amazed so many people like the crossover.

Garupe was delivered a letter as he broke his fast one cold morning a few days after his converse with Rey. It was the scroll of Valignano and he opened the parchment with trembling fingers. The letter told of the temple he left behind and the general notices that would normally have filled Garupe's day in Portugal. It was kind of his former master to write such trivial news to him but his eyes dropped to the bottom of the page to read the final sentence which was clearly the true reason for the letter.

_I have received no news of Rodrigues. I pray daily for his deliverance and for his perseverance._

Garupe folded the letter and tucked the parchment into his sleeve. This was not a surprise to him in his heart but it still made the shadow of his own failings fall over him. He should be with Rodrigues in his mission to find Father Ferreira; instead he was sat in an opulent palace, giving penance to the Queen and a few disaffected nobles. He had more luxury around him than he had ever experienced in his life and Rodrigues would be fighting every moment of his remaining life to just survive.

He had made Father Ferreira his cause… and he had abandoned him. He was a failure.

Garupe spent the day praying in his rooms for forgiveness and strength until the sun begins to sink in the sky. Before the light goes altogether, Garupe decided to go for a walk in the gardens. Being so close to God’s beauty might strengthen him.

Garupe walked amongst the flower beds and tried to allow the perfume of the flowers to calm him. He kept away from the places that the King and his gaggle of friends would congregate in hopes of being left in solitude.

That didn't last long.

“Father Garupe!”

Garupe turned to look behind him. Rey was approaching with her gown fluttering around her. Garupe mused that she looked a little like a butterfly.

“Rey, I trust you feel a little better.”

“Much better. I slept without dreams last night.”

“Excellent.” He said it without any evident joy – in fact, he sounded as miserable as he felt.

“Are you well?” Rey fell into step with him and peered at him with worry on her face. It reminded him too much of the look of despair on her face the night of her nightmare.

“I am content.”

“That’s not a yes.” At this, Rey caught hold of Garupe’s wrist to stop him and turn him around. A shiver went up Garupe’s spine at the touch but he felt something close to despair when Rey whipped her hand away as though stung. Though the response he got was of concern and not disgust. “You’re so thin!”

Garupe looked down at his wrist. It was well-covered by his priestly gown but no doubt he had failed to regain all the weight he had lost of the ship journey.

“It is nothing. I tend to fast often and it-”

“You shouldn’t do that!” Rey said in a voice that bordered on shrill. “Food is so precious. It gives us strength.”

“I am a priest, Rey.” Garupe said this with levity and a touch of a plea. “We recognise fasting days, the need for penance and quiet contemplation.”

“Then eat more when you can!” Rey seemed almost irate with him. “I’ve known hunger… at the French court. If you can avoid it then you must. Promise me you will. Please!”

She gripped both his wrists again and her eyes were wide; begging. Garupe was struck then by how sweet her face was. It reminded him of the Madonna he had prayed to in the Church and whom he had looked to for guidance and comfort.

_Did Mary have such wide hazel eyes? Such pretty features? Such concern for only the lowly?_

“I… I will try.” For he knew he would. For _her_ he would.

“Garupe,” she loosened her grip on his wrists a little, “I meant what I said. I need a friend. Someone to talk to and trust. But friendship goes both ways. You must talk to me if you are to be unburdened.”

“I can go to confession.”

“Would you rather sit behind a rood screen than beside someone who wants to help? Besides you are the only Catholic priest here!”

That was true – he was the only priest here ordained in the faith to give absolution. That was joyous for Queen Holdo but unfortunate for him.

“Walk with me. And speak.” Rey said gently.

So they walked and slowly, haltingly, Garupe opened his heart to this young lady. Garupe told her of the situation that Father Ferreira had faced and finally succumbed to in Japan. How Garupe and Rodrigues had been determined to find their old mentor and save his soul and how Queen Holdo’s request had put pay to that. It was like one weight at a time was dropping from his shoulders. His guilt at not being able to join his friend in, what was undoubtedly, certain death suddenly came to the surface and Garupe was forced to sit on a stone bench to accommodate these emotions. Rey sat beside him.

“I should have argued more.” Garupe spat. “I should have insisted I follow Rodrigues. Or even have refused to get on the English ship. I could have disguised myself and snuck on Rodrigues’ boat. He was my friend… we were brothers… and now,” his eyes suddenly stung so bitterly he could not see and it was like a boulder was on his chest, “I will never see him again.”

Rey took his hand and clutched it. He hated his weakness and knew he should not give in to it but no-one had ever held his hand before. Not even as a boy. It felt good to be holding a hand… _her_ hand.

“I can only imagine your torment. I am sorry for not knowing it.” Rey consoled. Was this what having a friend was like?

He’d only ever had one and he was lost to Garupe.

“It is not your duty to know of it. I should not have told you.” Garupe managed. Yet her little thumb was caressing his hand and… why did he feel so wretched yet so alive at her touch?

“You should. It’s what friends do.”

Garupe wondered later on whether this was the moment he surrendered or maybe it was at a later date. But he knew even then he would not try and hide all the secrets of his heart from this lady anymore.

* * *

Garupe soon learned that the best way to maintain his sanity was to split himself into two when it came to Rey. There was Father Francisco Garupe who was a Jesuit Priest and gave penance to the Queen and her ladies. He heard confession and took Mass and preached the need to live a good life. That man was implacable.

And then… there was Garupe. He was by all means the same in looks and temperament as the priest but he was the one Rey greeted so warmly when they met in the gardens. This one always seemed to be forced to watch the latest trick that Rey had taught her orange and white spaniel BB8 to perform. He had never much liked pets but the dog seemed loyal to his mistress and treated her with such guileless affection that he could not help but tolerate it.

He was also the man whom found special cuts of food and wine sent to his rooms as he never took his meals in the Great Hall. He'd been repulsed at the decadence of royal cuisine but Rey's pleading face kept flashing before his eyes when he tried to send it back.

So he'd eaten his meal. And promptly ran to the stool closet.

After a life eating the plainest food, he could not stomach such opulence. Yet when he meekly explained to Rey that his meal had not been a success, she had been full of remorse rather than reproach.

“I'm so foolish! Forgive me – I was exactly the same after exile.”

After that, he got the same food as before but it was very different. The bread was still hot from the oven and cooked to perfection. His stew had pieces of good meat in it and wasn't at all watery. And his ale was strong.

It took a while but suddenly his wrists weren’t so thin, his face not so sharp and his ribs didn't stick out so much. Rey saw all this and nodded her approval. Even the Queen commented that he was a handsome man when well-fed which caused his cheeks to burn.

Rey did not seem to approve of his fasting but simply made a point of offering apples when he could eat and even a cup of the cocoa bean that had been found in the New World. He had taken a small sip and could not deny it was one of the best things that he had ever experienced.

He hated how much life was becoming pleasant after his abandoned mission with Rodrigues. But how could he hate a life like this?

* * *

Whitehall Palace was a grand structure and a mighty palace that he could walk every day of his life without seeing the entirety of. On his days of leisure, he found himself exploring the hidden corridors of the estate. King Dameron was in the process of refurbishing the mighty palace. The King and his Queen may have a tempestuous relationship at best but they had a few things in common; most evident was their love of architecture and beautiful things. The King and Queen normally outsourced this through their devotion to mistresses and gowns respectively. It appeared that this was their project where they tried to work together.

Some rooms especially the Queen’s apartments were sumptuous but it was the rooms they tried to hide that Garupe found interesting. Some rooms were so damp and in need of repair that Garupe did not like to linger long. Yet his curiosity could not be assuaged and he found himself peeping into any closed off room he could.

It was during one of these travails that he came across Rey holding a candle as they came across one another in a secluded corridor.

“Rey? What are you doing?”

“Exploring.” Her face was alight with mischief. “I've found something. Come with me.” Garupe found his wrist caught and was pulled towards a pair of double-doors. Garupe had not felt brave enough to venture there before. He tried to ignore the tingles he was experiencing in the wrist she now had hold of.

Rey opened the door with some gentle jolting and Garupe stepped into a room surrounded with darkness. It was soon only the light of Rey's candle that instructed Garupe where to put his feet.

The room smelt musty and yet oddly comforting. Its only when Garupe's eyes adjusted that he could make out rows and rows of books that seemed to cover the walls.

“A library?”

“Yes,” Rey put her candle down carefully on a table and walked towards one of the bookshelves, running her hands reverently over the spines, “isn't it wonderful?”

Garupe looked up at the many heavy tomes and nodded. “Why hasn't more care been given to this place?”

“There are many libraries at Whitehall. The King has fixed up the main library which was his late father's favourite. But this palace will take many years to bring up to scratch.” Rey turned to look at Garupe. “I do love reading so. Stories and fairy-tales were what kept me from going insane when I lived in exile. What are you favourite stories?”

“We only read Biblical ones. Though there are some good tales in the Old Testament.” He did not speak loudly. It felt that so much can be destroyed if he made the wrong sound.

“Yes, I have read those too. The ladies in the Queen’s rooms prefer poetry that is not fit for the public to read. Such things...”

“Do not let yourself be corrupted by such works.” Garupe said firmly. The priest in him was never far from the surface.

“Lady Connix is kind to me. It is confusing but I do not hate her. Even though I love the Queen… I do not hate her. She is sweet and funny. I cannot blame Dameron for loving her. Even if it is a sin.”

Garupe didn’t know how to best respond. He should have condemned Lady Connix utterly for her loose living. Yet he found he could not. He could offer prayers for her soul but little else. Besides… Rey was right – the woman was difficult to dislike. Lord knows, he had tried.

“It is not becoming of a Christian to be cruel to anyone. Her sins are her own; lets not add our disapproval on top of them.” It was more fair than he had ever previously sounded.

“To love a man who is not free must be the greatest torment.” Rey mused. “I admire her tenacity.” She looked up at him with her face golden in the candlelight. “Have you ever experienced such things yourself? Such temptation? Such… desire?”

Garupe suddenly wanted to take a step back. Several steps back. Away from that sweet face. “I have been surrounded by priests my whole life. We swear a vow of chastity – it is a vow I have not taken lightly.”

“And no woman at the court has turned your head? Made you think it would not hurt to stray?” Rey asked in a whisper. “There are many vivacious women about the court-”

“I have no desire for them.” It was the truth – he had never felt an inkling of desire within him for such women. He wanted to fix Rey with a stare that made her see the truth to those words. Her hazel eyes were huge in the candle light. And suddenly he knew she could see – she would be able to see everything in his heart. Even that which should not be there.

Garupe suddenly turned on his heel and dashed out the room like the hounds of hell were after him. He sat trembling upon his bed for a long time while hoping against hope that Rey had not been able to see that the only desire he had ever felt was upon looking at her.

* * *

Garupe washed his face in freezing cold water before attending Mass that night. The Queen and her ladies were in attendance – Rey was among them. All their heads were bowed in prayer. He lost himself in the colour of Latin prayer and the blessing of the sacred host. He read from the Bible and gave his lesson – yet never had he been so disconnected. His eyes kept falling upon Rey’s bowed head.

Had it all been in his head? Is this merely how friends behave?

He took confession and gave penance to all who came before him. He believed himself reprieved when a familiar voice came through the rood screen as the last of the flock to seek absolution.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned.”

Garupe swallowed and then listened.

There were small confessions such as lying and pride which Garupe easily promised God’s true forgiveness.

Then -

“I have grievously offended Him by the sin of lust.”

Garupe stiffened. His silence was mere invitation for Rey to continue speaking.

“I have been struck by desire for a man who is removed from me. Who is not free to love me or any other. Yet I cannot stop dreaming of this man. Thinking of him. Wanting to be near him. To kiss him and have him kiss me.”

_What have I done to deserve this?_

“This is a human sin, My Child. If you come here and truly repent then you will be forgiven. Your sins will be washed free and you may walk amongst us as though brand new.”

There is a pause before the next words came forth from the other side of the confessional:

“But that is the truly terrible thing Father – I do not believe myself to want forgiveness. And I know myself to not repent of this. For I have never desired something so much in all my life as him.”

Garupe felt, as well as could make out, the eyes through the screen. They were looking right at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, temptation is a-coming.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* I can only apologise. It's not been an easy few weeks. I've taken on a second job, been approved for a mortgage, suffering panic attacks and trying to fix a dodgy boiler when it's getting very cold. For what its worth, I've wanted to write for so long but I literally haven't got the time for anything but work and sleep. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you can forgive me. I love you all.

Garupe knelt at his prie-dieu and clutched his rosary beads so tightly that he knew there would be circular indents in his palms for hours. He closed his eyes and tried to open his heart to the Lord.

All he saw when he closed his eyes were _hers_. Hazel and fanned with long lashes and _blazing_.

He was a man of the cloth who was wedded to God and had sworn himself to celibacy at the age of eleven. But he’d never endured temptation like this before.

Temptation was a sin. But the devil had packaged it so beautifully… with hazel eyes and beautiful brown hair streaked with auburn. Who rejected the pomp of the court and dressed demurely. Who’s crucifix necklace hung so it just brushed the tops of her pushed up breasts...

It had been three nights and two days since that confession and he was in turmoil. He wished that Rodrigues was here. That his friend could offer solidarity and guidance in this hell. And then he wanted to weep for being so self absorbed when his friend was in such danger. What would damn him more – his temptation or his self-absorption?

Garupe had made sure to keep to places where he could not be alone with Rey. He never visited the Queen’s apartments unless directly asked for. He no longer walked in the gardens encase Rey and her blasted spaniel were there to try and keep him company. He ate his meals in his rooms. In fact, Garupe was now as much a prisoner than if the King had cast him into the Tower. He was sure he had developed his previous translucent pallor.

Rey seemed to have lost her boldness though. Her eyes were now permanently lowered when he came before the Queen and she seemed to be practically squirming in his presence. Garupe felt guilt at his own evident outrage at all of this. Surely what was said in confession was only for the ears of God? He was merely there to provide comfort and penance. He had heard so much over the years that little was shocking to him anymore. Maybe he had read too much into it and Rey was now finding her confession to be more shameful than before? Maybe it hadn’t been about him at all?!

But then Garupe took confession again and once again Rey unburdened herself.

“The man I desire will not be in the same room as me. I feel angry and ashamed both for the rejection and for the position I put him in.”

Garupe gulped and then gave his comfort. “You are young, My Child. And prone to flights of fancy. If you simply repent of this affection then-”

“I don’t repent. I cannot. I am sorry if he is uncomfortable and even a little angry at his want of reaction but repent? Never. To repent would make it seem like I never felt it in the first place. And I cannot deny that. Nor will I ever.”

Rey left straight-backed and defiant with her tears kept within her eyes. Garupe had not given her penance to perform. Surely such a show of bravery was enough?

* * *

Garupe had ventured out into the gardens for a walk one Sunday afternoon that promised unseasonable warmth (and Rey was away with the Queen on a trip to a local bathing house). His own piety was giving way to shame and this was never something he had prepared for – his devotion to God was supposed to be absolute.

He was beside the water fountain and contemplating going back inside when he heard a voice behind him.

“Father Garupe?”

He turned and saw the glamorous and oddly sweet figure of Lady Kaydel Connix. The King’s official mistress.

Garupe bowed his head towards her yet in truth was not sure how to handle her company. He may have preached the need for clemency and understanding to Rey but she was a sinner and surely he should try and guide her on the right path?

She was a very pretty lady – with blonde hair in two buns that fell into fashionable ringlets that made her look oddly like a spaniel that Rey seemed to adore so much. She was wearing a green gown that fell off to expose her shoulders and a fair amount of cleavage. It was fashionable, Garupe knew, but he still felt the desire to tug up her neckline to save her modesty.

“Milady. May I help you?”

“I hope so. I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a long while.”

Garupe raised an eyebrow. “You wish to convert to the Catholic faith?”

Lady Connix threw her head back and laughed. “Oh my! No. No, I find the Protestant faith more pliable to loose living.”

Garupe tried not to scowl at her flippancy. Unfortunately he had a mouth that was made for a bad case of the sulks.

Lady Connix stepped forward. “No. I am actually here… about Rey.”

Garupe turned to stone and Lady Connix used the opportunity to guide him into a walk.

“What… what about Rey?”

Lady Connix snorted. “You are a terrible liar, you know? Though a priest who is a good liar is not a good thing. So it is as comforting as it is amusing.”

“Lady Connix...”

“She is sad. Truly sad. I have never seen the like. She isn’t eating as much which is very much unlike her. She prays more and not even the company of the King will help her spirits. She looks to the door whenever it opens and looks so desolate when the person comes in… I am not as blind as everyone else, Father Garupe. She’s pining for you and you are denying her.”

It seemed pointless to lie – Connix seemed to understand all too well. “It’s a sin. She is misguided and… I must be strong. To encourage her in such folly… I would be utterly failing in my duty.”

“Rey has never been misguided. She is a strong girl and she does not need to be kind to me but she is nonetheless. She seems to be adamant in her feelings.”

“I cannot taint her! She is good and pure and I am too old. Too penniless. A man who is bound by the oath he took.”

“Is that really the reason? You believe yourself unworthy?”

“I believe such behaviour unworthy of _her_. It would ruin her life and her prospects.”

They were both quiet for a few steps before Lady Connix spoke again. “You know, I resisted for a long time in becoming the King’s mistress. I had the same concerns as you. I did not much like the Queen but there was a difference between disliking the woman and becoming a cuckoo in her marriage. It was a sin and would destroy my reputation.”

“Then what changed your mind?” Garupe was anxious to know.

Lady Connix gave a little smile. “Poe. He changed my mind.” Garupe furrowed his brow in confusion before he realised that Poe must be King Dameron’s Christian name. Lady Connix shrugged. “I love him. He is not free for me to love but I do. And if this is all I can ever be to him, to be a lover that is kept away from the throne, then why not? I have no desire for a crown. And we may live only a little while – to deny ourselves such happiness seems ridiculous and without purpose. For while I am living I know myself to be loved and cherished.”

“And what of the afterlife? What of your soul?”

Lady Connix thought a while then sighed. “If God wants to condemn me for snatching at the little happiness I have in this world then so be it. I will walk through damnation with the memory of Poe’s lips upon mine.”

Garupe felt like he had been hit over the head. How could the woman be so blasé about what lay ahead?

But as Garupe returned to his room another thought entered his head.

_What if I live a long life and go to Heaven without the memory of_ her _lips on mine?_

* * *

The Queen returned to the palace late that night and Garupe heard from servants who came with his meal that night that one of the ladies had to be helped from the carriage and put to bed.

The servants informed him it was Lady Rey.

Garupe barely managed a bite of his meal that night. He spent the night in prayer for her but just as long agonising over whether to run up to her rooms and demand that someone, anyone, tell him what was going on. Was it a mere chill? Or something more serious?

As morning broke and Garupe emerged with circles under his eyes for lack of sleep, he was met in the church by the Queen and her ladies. Rey was noticeably absent. The Queen looked distressed.

“The royal doctors are with her. They think it may be scarlet fever.”

All of the congregation were in fervent prayer for Rey’s preservation. Garupe found himself almost unable to lead the Mass for his throat was closing up.

Maybe it was grief? Or maybe he was getting sick too?

_Good. Then I can join her and we can be together that way_ , was all Garupe could truly think.

By late afternoon, he was called to Rey’s rooms. If a priest was called to give penance and absolution that was not a good sign.

Rey was laying in bed and looked barely conscious. There was a thin sheen of moisture all over her face from her fever sweats and she was red in the face from the rashes. She was breathing in a very shallow manner.

The doctor took him to the side. “We have done all we can. But she must survive the night. We felt it wise to have you on hand.”

Garupe never took his eyes off her and sat beside her bedside. Rey was slow and clearly delirious but seemed to know someone was there. Garupe took her hand in his. She had such little hands compared to him. And her touch seemed to do things to him that he never could have experienced. He felt he could see his future from her touch. A life that was as removed from him as if it was separated by glass yet he knew that she saw it too.

“Father...”

“I’m here.” He whispered it so only she could hear. Only she mattered. “I’m here.”

He was fairly sure she couldn’t see him clearly but she felt his touch and tried to squeeze the hand that was being held. She was too weak to do much than spasm in his touch but that was quite alright. She was still here.

“I don’t want to die.” Her voice was cracked and broken and so little that Garupe wanted to throw himself over her to stop the spirits from tormenting her.

“I know.” His voice sounded as rough as her own. “I am not here to see you out of this life. I am here to give comfort. To give you strength.” _Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me._

“I pushed you away. You’re not my friend anymore.” Rey said in a sad, resigned little voice.

“I will be your friend always. But you need to remain among us if we are to stay friends.”

“So if I don’t die… you will still hold my hand?”

Garupe wanted to kiss every finger in his vow to her. “Yes, Rey. We can hold hands as much as you want.”

It was a long night. Rey slept through most of it. The doctors kept coming to take her pulse and check her vitals but there seemed to be no change. Garupe stayed by her side. He ended up falling asleep with his head next to her hand. He woke in the early morning to sunlight peaking through the window and Rey’s face paler. He let out a cry of dismay and the doctor quickly came to feel her forehead lest she had died in the night.

Instead he gave Garupe a look.

“She’s cooler. But not cold.”

Garupe didn’t know what that meant until he saw the doctor give a relieved sigh.

The fever had broke. She would live.

* * *

Garupe stayed in the church all day to give his thanks. Towards the end of the day, his knees were bruised and protesting noisily at his continued kneeling. But he couldn’t stop thanking the Almighty for her deliverance.

The next few days Rey had so many visitors that he could not get near her rooms without having an audience of at least four people. He was itching to know how she was and to let her know that he had not abandoned her that not even prayers could bring him solace.

It was one night when he went to retrieve a book to read in the little hidden library that Rey had shown him that the door opened as he was perusing the shelves with his candlestick. Turning he saw Rey, clad in her nightclothes with a robe wrapped around her and looking as though she could not yet pick up a book – let alone read it.

Garupe put the candle down on the nearby table and helped Rey to a chair. “You shouldn’t be up! You need to rest.”

“I’ve been confined to bed for days. I need to get up and out.” Yet she seemed happy to sit down.

“How are you? Are you feeling well? Do you need anything?”

“I need you to stop fussing. I am well. I’m fine.” Yet Garupe never let go of her hand. Nor did Rey let go of his.

“Thank God. Praise be to God.”

“I’m not here to talk about Him. Did you mean what you said? When you promised me that I could hold your hand?”

Garupe was tempted to deny it all. But he’d nearly lost her. And if he had a weakness, it was definitely her.

“Yes, I meant it.”

“Good. But I don’t want to just hold your hand. I want you to hold _me_.”

Garupe was slow to act but slowly opened his arms and allowed her to rest her head against his collarbone. She was thinner from her illness but clearly regaining her strength. He could wrap his arms around her completely.

Her head tipped upwards and kissed his chin. It made Garupe want to jump to his feet from the shock. He looked at her with astonishment.

And didn’t move when she kissed his lips.

Garupe had never been kissed before. It’s so soft and he can smell her scent more prominently. And there is a feeling he’d never had before: a feeling of home.

Rey lets a whimper pass her kissing lips and that is when Garupe lets himself fall into the kiss. He lets his mouth open against Rey’s and when their tongues touch he could weep with joy.

The candle burns out altogether before they break apart.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not nearly as much as I wanted to write but my depression is so deep right now, it took me two weeks just to write this. I hope it's not terrible.

Garupe had never had a secret before. He had absolved many of their sins and helped unburden their own secrets through the act of Confession but never had any of his own. His Jesuit faith had been followed strictly and he had not allowed himself to indulge in the sins that his other priests were want to do e.g. drinking and whoring. He knew that the Church was lacking in many areas and was in need of reform but he fervently that just living your own life in the purest form would purge him in the eyes of God.

What would God think of him now?

It appeared that having kept the secrets of so many over the years had enabled Garupe to lie by omission quite effortlessly. Yet it was not for himself that he was adamant that he must live with sin upon his lips; he would not be her ruin anymore than he already was.

And the lie was sweeter when her own met his in darkened rooms.

Garupe knew that as far as liaisons went, Rey and himself were hardly the scandal of Christendom. Their meetings mainly consisted of embraces in each others arms, whispered endearments and breathless kisses. Nothing had been done that could not be taken back.

Garupe tried to take comfort in that.

Rey seemed a lot more pragmatic about the whole thing:

“I am surrounded by affairs and secrecy every minute of every day.” She reasoned during one of their late night meetings in the darkened corner of the little library. “Many are having love trysts with the husbands of their best friends! Many are trying to catch the eye of the King. At least we are not attached or hurting anyone.”

Garupe wanted to point out that their deception would cause more hurt to everyone around them if they were discovered but Rey then started to plant little kisses on his neck and he found himself somewhat distracted.

In all areas, Garupe and Rey acted their parts to perfection. Garupe performed his duties as the Queen’s Chaplin with his usual dedication to detail and quiet solemnity. Rey was the prize of the Queen’s ladies; an orchid in a field of dandelions. Her piety, demureness and evident please in simple things made the usual lustre and decadence of Dameron’s court look coarser than ever. No one was to know that at night Garupe was the one to pull that modest neckline down and kiss the top of Rey’s pretty little breasts.

Garupe did penance. He prayed for forgiveness but wasn’t sure he received it. And he wasn’t sure he wanted it.

If he was a truly good pure and strong man then he would never have faltered in his step towards the Light. He would never have known her embrace. Never smelt the perfumed curls of her hair. It was a reality that he wouldn’t go back to even if he could.

* * *

 

It wasn’t all passion of course. There were moments of true tenderness – many times they sat upon the ground of the library’s darkened corners and talked in one another’s arms. Garupe listened to Rey’s stories of her past – of a luxuriant past that she could not remember. Until she was three, she had two parents. Drunkards by all means but of royal blood. And Dameron’s mother, the Queen Dowager, had been kind to her. Yet all Rey could remember was her exile in France. Poe had been exiled too but had been housed in the French palace. His cousin, a minor royal at best, had been shunted into the convent of Jakku. It had been a miserable barren place – her parents were long dead and she had not a friend in the world. The nuns were not kind and were ruled by the head cleric Unkar Plutt. He was responsible for providing her with food. By all means, Garupe’s own meagre diet at the Vatican looked rather hearty.

Dameron’s restoration to the throne had been her salvation – she was invited with the King to England and the world was joyous again. Rey could not remember a time when she had experienced anything other than poverty so this new life was as scary to her as it was exciting.

Garupe stoked her hair in a soothing way and whispered that she was safe now. He was still not fully sure how to give affection after a life of having nothing to go on. Rey buried her face in his chest and seemed to relax into him so Garupe deduced that he had done something right.

But soon he came against another challenge – he was expected to share himself. He had been the calm confessor all his life; how could he now open his heart?

To her… very easily it seemed.

He was slow to open to her of course as he had been tightly wound all his life but her keen expression and clear need to know him made him carry on. Soon he had his head in her lap with his cheek upon her skirts and her hands gently threading through his hair as he talked. He spoke of his life at the Vatican and his childhood. He admitted to Rey about his parentage – how he was nobly born and his parents were forced to give him up. How the Queen had known his mother in the Portuguese court and that was the reason he was called to the English court and away from Rodrigues. He spoke of Rodrigues and his mission to Japan to fight the persecution against Christianity. He spoke of his shame about not following his friend in his Holy mission. He spoke of his relief that he had been sent here instead – where he had found her.

Rey stroked his head and silently wiped his tears away when they fell into the satin of her skirts. She was there and she listened as he spoke. And that was enough.

That was enough.

* * *

There was a change in the air in the Queen’s rooms. The atmosphere was excited yet with an air of trying to be sustained.

Garupe was sure that there was no gossip about himself and Rey in the way he feared. The women did not stop talking in a conspiracy sort of way. But the Queen was seeming to pay a lot more attention to Rey.

_Why didn’t Rey dress more richly? Wear more jewellery? She was such a pretty girl. Why not show off?_

Rey looked rather puzzled by all this and protested that she liked her normal apparel.

There was a lot of knowing glances amongst the ladies. Except for Lady Connix who Garupe sometimes caught looking at him with a sad look on her face. Almost as though she were sorry for them.

It all became terribly clear when they had visitors at court.

Armitage Hux, newly created Duke of Crait, arrived with many other men at the Court. Garupe was at the back of the hall for the attendance to be paid upon the group of gentleman. Rey was with the other ladies close to the King and Queen. Of all the men, Hux seemed to have particular attention paid upon him. He had performed particularly well as a General in a battle and, while it was rumoured that King Dameron was not overly enamoured of the man, he must show gratitude for loyal royal service.

And introduced him to his young unmarried cousin.

Garupe had to steady himself as the ground seemed to slip beneath his feet. He claimed the excuse of needing to attend Mass and collapsed into an alcove that was hidden by a tapestry.

It had barely been a month since he had first kissed Rey yet now the idea of a life without her, or forced into a role of humble servant as she was married off to a man she didn’t know, made him feel so cold and empty that he wondered if he was actually dying.

Garupe made it to the chapel and sunk to his knees. But he did not pray; he wasn’t sure there was anyone to hear him anymore.


	5. V

Garupe wanted to secrete himself away. To stay in his room, refusing food and losing himself in God’s voice. He wanted to send a desperate letter across the sea to be recalled. He would claim that the English Court was a Godless place and no amount of his teachings or Masses could rectify that. The Restoration Court was known as a hot bed of vice and scandal – it seemed the King had spent a little too much time in France – and it wouldn’t take too much to be believed.

 

He had never thought himself a coward. He had been willing to follow Rodrigues to Japan after all.

 

But he couldn’t watch Her get married.

 

He couldn’t.

 

Rey seemed to be in a state of denial. Yes, General Hux was sending her gifts and yes, he seemed to pay her special attention… but he was such a dour fellow that this couldn’t mean anything. He was just trying to impress the Princess… wasn’t he?

 

Garupe wanted to catch her by the forearms and shake her. Couldn’t she see? This was not some land where nothing unexpected ever happened to you. She could deny it to herself all she wanted but the facts were that the King clearly had a marriage in mind for her and her opinion would matter very little in it all. Even if the King was not a cruel man by nature, he was committed to the Resistance cause and would expect his cousin to do her duty. No matter what her reservations.

 

And if he discovered her reservations were to do with the esteemed Jesuit priest – well, Garupe did even want to imagine the outcome.

 

She would likely be disgraced and he would end up disembowelled at Tyburn!

 

This was purgatory. And no amount of praying could save him from the abyss.

 

* * *

 

It was a week from the sighting in the Great Hall and a night of fitful sleep when Garupe found himself awaking to candlelight appearing before his eyes. He shielded his vision from the sudden light and it took a while for him to adjust to the change from darkness to light.

 

Someone was holding a candle, Someone in a white nightgown.

 

Rey was a vision in the candlelight. With her hair braided to one side, she looked almost childlike in her sleep-rumpled state. It contradicted her stern expression.

 

“So… you _can_ be in the same room as me, after all?”

 

Garupe sat up in his bed. His own nightshirt was very similar to her own though of clearly lesser quality. He had never been so exposed. “Rey...”

 

She put down the candle on his bedside table and folded her arms. “Why have you been avoiding me? You will not respond to my attempts to be alone with you. I thought we were passed all this!”

 

Garupe blinked and fought the urge to shake his head in exasperation.

 

“This is not a matter of nerves, Rey. I had thought… if I began to distance myself from you… it would not hurt so much when we are parted.”

 

“We are not being parted! Why does everyone speak of me as though it is an inevitability that I shall leave court?”

 

“Because it is!” Garupe found himself exclaiming. “Rey… the King wants you married.”

 

“He is just trying to flatter his new General with-

 

“-with a royal bride.” Garupe interrupts. Rey looks at him, clearly speechless. “Rey, you are not stupid. Surely… you know...”

 

Garupe stared at her and suddenly Rey’s face crumpled. Her attempts to believe this was all a dream fell with her tears. “I don’t love him.”

 

She sounded so young; so naive.

 

“Well, maybe with time, it will grow.” Garupe was tempted to spit on floor from the taste of those words. Why was he trying to persuade her that this would be anything less than horrific?

 

“’Grow’? Garupe, I don’t know this man. And what I do know I don’t like. He’s so cold and will probably regard any wife as a nuisance. How can I grow to feel anything close to what a wife should feel for her husband?”

 

Garupe doesn’t know. He’s prayed so much over this he fears he is developing saint’s knees but God stays silent.

 

This is nothing but silence in regards to this.

 

Rey suddenly straightens her shoulders and she is every inch a royal princess. “I won’t marry him. I refuse.”

 

Garupe’s heart shouldn’t leap at that; it really shouldn’t.

 

“Rey… it will be expected of you.”

 

“Will the King drag me up the aisle? Grab my jaw and force me to say the words? If not, then I cannot be made to do anything.”

 

“But what would you do? The King could turn you out for defiance and ingratitude.”

 

“I will take the veil. I will follow my life at Jakku and become a nun.”

 

Garupe blinks. Rey… a nun. Rey, hidden away in a chancery with a wimple hiding her beautiful chestnut hair and praying to a God she seems to be losing faith in.

 

Rey where he will never be allowed to see her.

 

Garupe knows full well, though he wishes he didn’t, that he is rare in his chaste living. Many of his brothers’ indulge in affairs and some even have concubines.

 

No monk is permitted to enter a nunnery to pay special visits to the Mother Superior.

 

“You cannot.”

 

It comes from his mouth like he is speaking another person’s words; a person who feels that it is a hopeless fight.

 

“But I can! If I-”

 

“No, Rey. The life of religion is not so you can escape a loveless marriage. You were imprisoned in Jakku for many years and you know the cruelty of life there. You are not meant to be hidden away.”

 

Rey caught his hands. “But I can’t marry someone I don’t love. I can’t leave you.”

 

“You would never leave me. You’d always hold a place within me.”

 

Rey blinked her tears and then said in a halting voice: “I will do it for I have no choice. But you must do something for me in return.”

 

“Anything.” For truly in that moment he would spill his life blood if that was what she needed.

 

“General Hux will have my hand. But it must be you, only you, who will have my maidenhead.”

 

Garupe found himself doubting his senses. Surely she couldn’t have just said-

 

“Lie with me the night before my wedding. Take my innocence. And then… then I will do what I must.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate being an adult. It makes updating so hard.


End file.
